years ago when i had sex with him it wasn’t
dependent on weeping clouds i brought johnny
walker black label & can’t remember much about
those warm afternoons or air conditioned nights
mornings we woke with headaches bright as oranges

more than a decade later we speak on the phone hours
catching up on missed years of joy, baseball, lovers, slices
of pain, poems, films, kids mundane opportunities for a
throaty laugh or floating clouds of the time he did that brought
us together my name tattooed on his arm faded as the lust

that used to drive me to him like oxycodone love drugs
a thing of the past grown-up friendship replaces now
our pumps get primed by younger flesh & fantasies
timing is the key to everything & ours was always off
comfortable as blue velvet memory foam lined slippers